


Consequence of Darkness

by FlamingRiver



Category: 19th Century - Fandom, Demons - Fandom, Hybrid - Fandom, Shape-Shifters - Fandom, Vampires - Fandom, werewolves - Fandom, witches - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Demons, F/M, Fantasy, Gore, Horror, Love, Novel, Other, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingRiver/pseuds/FlamingRiver
Summary: Runa is a girl with a concealed past, even from herself. When here father disowns her she is left to discover those secrets the hard way. She soon becomes associated with the supernatural and has to live a life that she would never have dreamed. Are you willing to accept Death's outstretched hand?





	1. Cold

Cold

I am cold, but I am not shivering. I am tired, but my eyes remain open. I am scared, but am afraid of nothing.  
It had been only a couple hours, but I was still trying to comprehend that my father did not love me, that he did not want me. What have I done? I may not be the most educated girl but I wasn’t a simpleton. Unlike most girls my age in this small town, I could read, I could write. I maintained the records of sales for my father’s small business. Many girls here avoided reading and writing altogether, as many men found it unattractive; they feared that it would fill our minds with thoughts that would contradict them and give us females more power.  
He said that I had made my first and last mistake; but I could not understand what I had done. Maybe I had voiced an opinion that he did not agree with.  
I wasn’t hiding. I was waiting. Maybe my father would come to his senses. Maybe he would realize that I was more important than what he previously thought I was. Or was I really that disposable? Maybe I had made more than just a simple mistake and he was just being modest; maybe I had destroyed an entire document for a once in a lifetime opportunity that would allow my father a chance at true success.  
Thinking, thinking, thinking…  
Would I want to go back? If I had made a mistake on one piece of parchment, would I be in danger of being cast out of my ‘loving’ home a second time? Why not just stay and starve myself here? I could die and maybe when they find my rotten corpse in the dirty alley they will feel pain and regret. Or maybe they would feel joy that I would never be able to knock on their door begging for mercy. But I was not one to beg. Or was I?  
Hour after hour, days could have past but the alley was constantly dark from the overcast to keep track of day or night. I was slowly trying to recover from the shock. He didn’t even allow me to retrieve my things. I had no scarf, no coat, and no blanket, nothing to keep me warm in the chilly atmosphere.  
I was alone, but this alley was not a safe place, especially being a woman in a fairly middle class gown. It was not silk but it was worth a meal to a man with nothing. Not many women lasted on the streets; we are easy to take advantage of, and it is not surprising to have them to take an opportunity for food or ale. Many turned to prostitution as they figured they were doomed to rape anyway.  
I would not stay here waiting on a chance; I retreated further into the darkness huddling in a corner. Already my stomach began to cramp. It was not the first time I had missed a meal. But it was the first time that the chance for another is close to never.  
It would be easier to have my clothes stolen and freeze to death, than try to scrounge for money for nutrients. My resolution to die was set. If my father, the one who would tuck me in bed and tell me a story of my mother, kissed me, and told me that he loved me as dearly as she in heaven, would cast me out and tell me that I could never be loved; there was no reason for me to live.  
I pressed my knees to my chest, trying to conceal my warmth. Although I tried, I could not escape my thoughts. I started to sing the lullaby that my father said my mother would sing to me before she passed. 

 

Come away, come away  
From the river my lass  
Or soon you will hear the raven cry  
Oh how dark the deep can be  
But the waters will carry you to the light  
Do you know, do you know  
How many days have passed,  
Since you heard the raven cry.  
She could not bear the loss of you  
He could not find the love for you  
You did not find the light.

My mother died of fever before my tenth year, the doctor could do nothing to cure her. He said that a daemon had possessed her. But my father would not hear of it; he was never tolerant of superstition, saying that it was an excuse to explain something that they did not understand. He was a man of science and logic, but had a peculiar love of fiction in books and myths. He would find them as an escape from the real world, and although I could find pure joy when reading fiction, he would always look up and find my stare and retort, “What nonsense!”  
Yet again, I found myself wondering how such a caring man would pitch his only daughter; only reminisce of the love of his life, out on the cold street.  
Maybe that was the reason; I was too painful to look at, that I was not as perfect as his wife, and that I made mistakes unlike her. This thought only justified my decision to die. The only difficulty was to wait for death and perish with my screaming voice of my conscience.


	2. Death

My dress had been stripped away from me, as I had predicted. The tips of my fingers were beginning to turn a dark shade of blue as the end of autumn was opening for the beginning of winter. What seemed like centuries of a pain in my head and stomach, shaking hands, and silent surroundings, I found how I was to die. It would be quick, maybe painful, but soon. A tall slim figure approached me. I could only see the flicker of his eyes in the darkness. My father told me the story of who he was, once upon a time, long ago, and in a far off land.  
He was the man who parents told their children to fear. But never had I seen him up close; I had only ever seen him below in the streets from my underappreciated bed. 

“Daddy, who is that man?”   
He responded, “He is Death himself.” He crouched down and slowly tip toed to my bed, and I pulled up the blanket to hide my nose. “Once upon a time, in the darkest of ages there lived a man. He had a reasonably good life, better than us in fact; but everything seemed lacking for the man; his children, his wife, his job, his home, many said that there was only one thing that ever made him happy.”  
“What was it daddy?”  
“The drink, my darling, he would leave the pub every night with it on his breath waiting for his next go. He would come home and beat everything he claimed to love but really loathed. He would yell and scream, while the neighbors would be too frightened to send for help, and left the poor family alone. One night, like many others, he went to the pub, but they had refused to sell it to him, after hours of fighting they finally were able to toss him back out in the street. He remained there to shout a few more pointed remarks in the direction of the tavern, and just when he was about to return to his home, a man with gleaming red eyes and glossy black hair stopped him. The stranger pulled out a large bottle of mead and smiled at the man. ‘I will make you a deal, sir; do my bidding and you will never see the end of this bottle.’ Of course this appealed to the man and without a blink snatched the bottle out of the strangers hand and replied, ‘You’ve got yourself a deal, mate.’ But after taking the first swig of mead the stranger was gone, and in that very moment the man died, and arose as the representative of the dark depths of the Devil’s stead. So now the man stalks the streets, but only at night, looking for those to take to the other side, to fulfill his agreement with the Devil. When children are disobedient and dishonest, their parents would offer them as a sacrifice to earn more years to avoid his dark embrace.”  
“Are you going to sacrifice me, daddy?” Fear made my eyes widen.  
“Of course not, my dear; I love you as much as those in heaven. It is merely a story, a silly superstition; now sleep.”

Every night, I would watch the dark figure roam the streets below; disappearing into alleyway after alleyway, looking for sacrificed children and those who could not live in this world anymore. I would look for him in the crowded streets, but could never find his shadowy figure among the colorful pedestrians who passed me. Like my father, I rejected the myth and rumors, but this shady character was a mystery that only made sense in fables and legends.  
And now, I was the sacrifice, I was not competent for this world now; I welcomed Death with open arms.  
Death took my frail, malnourished, nearly naked body from the obscure corner; and with a kind voice he whispered, “Come child, you have suffered enough.” His words were soothing, and I embraced his cold stature and allowed him to wrap me in his arms like it was the warmest blanket. For the first time, I felt safe. In Death’s arms, I felt secure.


	3. de Ecclesia Stellam Matutinam

When I awoke, a man with dark green eyes flecked with silver hovered over me with a welcoming smile. He was elegant, his chestnut hair swept to the right side, not a hair out of place. He was young, but his candlelit eyes were wise. Inside, I felt the need to panic; he was a strange man leaning over me. Oh God, for all I knew I was only wearing my shift; what were his intentions?  
“Good evening. You must be starving; shall I get you something to eat?”  
My stomach lurched at the thought of food, begging and pleading to have sustenance now. Meekly I replied, “Please, sir.”  
He arose and helped me sit up, “Please, call me Recian. Come with me, you can meet the rest of us while you feed.”  
What a queer expression: ‘feed’… “Thank you, sir, though I hardly deserve such kindness.”  
“Nonsense, you have particularly earned a meal, especially after all you have been through. Please, come.” I did not move. “What is the matter, dear?”  
“I have no clothes.” Didn’t I?  
His face brightened into a grin, “I took the freedom to dress you while you were sleeping; I thought you would be more comfortable awaking in more than a tattered rags.” My eyes widened and my cheeks flushed. “Please, my intentions were strictly honorable and pure. I am afraid I am too old for such temptations.” Again, the odd expressions, he seemed to be barely in his third decade, what did he mean he was too old? And I have seen men twice his age be just as perverse as the younger prowlers, “Come, child.”  
I gingerly crawled off of the unusually white and perfectly square mattress that was firm and hardly seemed touched even after my departure, besides the crumpled matching sheet. I looked down with wide eyes at my gown; the purest white with silver embroidering tightening in a high waist. It looked as though it was made in the earlier part of the century for a grand ball.  
“It was from my daughter’s collection before she died, it was all we had. You look lovely.” Recian offered his hand to me at the door. I lightly placed mine in his chilled hand as he guided me through a long hallway. We?  
The stone floors were surprisingly warm against my bare feet; I did not find any draft despite the observation that this structure was probably older than Recian and my own age combined.  
It was a church. Torches were at even intervals in the lengthy hall illuminating the walls that held paintings of Mary, the crucifixion, and gatherings of disciples and followers with Jesus in various scenes of the Bible. Now I understood why he did not take advantage of me in my weakened state. “You’re a priest!”  
He stopped and looked down at me. He began to laugh a light and joyful laugh, “My dear, no; I am not, whatever made you assume that?”  
“This is a church, is it not?”  
“It is.”  
“And you did not,” I flushed scarlet, “take advantage of me…”  
“Sweet child, I do not have to be a man of God to be able to resist the temptation of lust for an honored guest.” He chuckled and continued down the corridor.  
We entered an enormous room, making me feel even smaller and less important than what the bedroom had caused; however, the torchlight still caressed every crevice and every statue. I did not recognize this church; my father donated to all of the churches near the town, but this was foreign. “Where is this? I do not recognize this place.”  
“This church has been abandoned since before you were born, it is right outside of the little town where I had found you.” I knew precisely where I was now; it was de Ecclesia Stellam Matutinam. It was built by one man alone; said to be a devil worshiper who constructed it in mockery of the Lord almost two centuries ago. It was rumored that he embedded spells of witchcraft and satanic rituals inside the walls, so that any praise to God was revoked and you were immediately sent to hell after death, no matter how much you begged for forgiveness of God. I froze, terror spread over me like poison ivy, itching and scraping my skin. What do I do? “Are you alright?” I pulled away from Recian’s grasp.  
“I am dead, and I am in hell.”  
Worry spread across Recian’s face.  
“You’re not in hell! This is heaven compared to the outside world!” I screamed as the foreign being producing a heavy Scottish accent plucked me from my timid stance and twirled me in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry! I thought Recian told you.”  
“Volcan, step away; she is frightened. Runa, it is ok, you are safe, and no one is going to hurt you. You are not dead, just malnourished, you need to eat.” Volcan immediately retreated. He looked to be a little less than a decade older than I with deep red hair like a candle on a frigid evening; but his eyes were black, or were they simply a dark shade of brown. He was tall and broad, almost brutish, but his face was bright.  
I still could not bring myself to move. I was in a satanic church and even if I wasn’t dead, I was going to hell.  
“She must be suspicious.” Volcan’s voice had dropped to a cautious tone.  
“There is no reason to fear this place; all that is rumored about this place is fiction, and you will not be condemned.” My shoulder’s relaxed; his voice was so comforting and gentle that it could probably sooth me in the middle of a war.  
“I am not suspicious! But I am religious, and this church is everything against God!”  
“My dear, all the rumors centered about this church are false. There is no punishment awaiting you upon leaving here.” Recian’s eyes were filled with truth, and I did not have the strength to defy him; he offered food, and has given me shelter, I could trust his words; and reasoned that even if it was true, Lucifer seemed to have more mercy than God. I took Recian’s arm once more but kept my distance from Volcan; he was too familiar with me.  
We continued to the back of the room and entered an exponentially smaller room, but it still was larger than my father’s home. A thick richly stained table was placed in the center with an inadequate number of chairs of the same material. The table could have hosted a grand feast, with the elite of the city, yet it only held one chair for each side of the table; one of which were occupied by an extraordinarily handsome man.  
He possessed smooth black hair that was combed but only a few strands hung in front of his bright orange eyes as they scoured the thick book in front of him. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, along with black trousers, and a singular black leather bracelet decorated with a hammered silver piece complimenting his evenly tanned skin. Dark hair shadowed over his toned arms and was just visible above the V of his collar. I blushed at the tantalizing sight of him; never had I seen such a man, nor had such a reaction to one.  
I noticed that all three of them wore rather plain clothing; no yellows or pinks, laces or bows. All wore dark trousers and black leather boots; Recian wore a white shirt and Volcan wore a forest green. It was almost humbling; but made me feel slightly uncomfortable wearing such a formal gown.  
Recian led me to the nearest chair as Volcan traveled around the grand table and disappeared out into a door opposite of where we entered the dining hall. The silence continued as Recian took his place at the head of the table. I could not help myself but to constantly glimpse over at the mystifying creature at the end of the table; I still could not comprehend how one man could be so handsome.  
Recian leaned back and placed his hands in a prayerful manner to his lips, “Runa, do you have a place to stay?” I became aware that he knew my name; I deduced that I must have told him in my stupor.  
“I do not, sir.” My gaze was fixed on my hands folded in my lap. Where was I to sleep tonight? Before Recian could follow my answer with what seemed to be another question, Volcan strode out of the door with two plates; placing both on the table he pushed one across the table in front of me and sat down, proceeding to eat. Although my stomach urged me to gulp down the stew, I did not want to be rude until Recian and the other man had food.  
“Please, Runa, eat.” I hesitantly took a bite of the beef immediately becoming enveloped in the savory mixture of spices; it was absolutely overwhelming after going hungry for a few weeks. Recian smiled as I began to eat more heartily. “Continuing, being that you do not have a place to stay, I would like to invite you to stay here with my family and me. We will supply you with a bed, a roof, and food; we will take care of you, Runa.” Despite my yearning to continue eating, I stopped and could not hide the worry in my eyes. “Please, child, no harm will be done to you here, as I have said before, our intentions our strictly pure; although, if you do decide to stay, I must tell you something about us.”  
Confusion struck me; how could I say yes, thank you if I was only to be told that I would be living with unlawful men who only lie to me to get me to be the house whore. “I would like to know what you must say before I accept your kind and generous offer.”  
Recian considered this, “It will come as peculiar and shocking. But first, I must tell you that this is a secret that must be taken to your grave; which is why we would like for you to accept to stay.”  
I had to think about this. What if they did want me as a whore, or were criminals; the people of the city believe me dead, I was exiled from my father’s house, there was no hope for me to look for a husband; I was no longer honorable. “Very well, I shall accept your offer; I have nothing to fear as my reputation is already tainted, if not deceased.” Recian’s eyes softened with sadness; why does this man care so much? My own father disowned me, yet the man who I thought was Death himself scooped me up and is asking me to stay with him for no payment but to keep a secret. He knew my name, but I have no recollection of providing it, but as I once knew him as Death, I knew that nothing more on this earthly world could surprise me. Or maybe I was correct in my assumption. And the unnamed man at the end of the table was the Dark Prince, although I wouldn’t know who Volcan was; maybe one of his daemons? I shifted uneasily in my seat.  
“Runa,” I noted that when he thought it necessary to comfort me he would say my name. “I must be frank with you. I will never tell a lie to you and will not keep something from you unless it is for your safety.”  
“Many think that secrets they keep are for protection; many are wrong.”  
He paused, I could see in his face that he was searching for the right words to say. I waited. “Runa, we are not human any longer.”  
I could not help to raise my eyebrow, where was he going with this? He looked human. “We are practically the elite of the supernatural world, which you live in everyday, but choose to ignore it.” Volcan said with excitement.  
I slumped in my seat; they were just telling me another story; Recian was probably trying to act like a father that I no longer possessed. It was very kind, I knew I was particularly young and usually enjoyed fictional tales, but to accept his offer in promise of a bedtime story; it was ridiculous. But before I could request them to stop Recian continued, and I knew I mustn’t be rude after all that he has provided, so I sat up once more and bared the rest of his tale.  
“I am a vampire, Tara. Volcan a shape-shifter and Demar is a werewolf.” He motioned to the man that never looked up from his work. He was completely enthralled in the book. I glanced at Volcan to find him gleaming at me, but there was still a hint of worry in his blackened eyes. Did they think I was foolish? “Runa?”  
“Yes?”  
“Do you understand?”  
“Of course, you may continue with your tale.”  
“Tale, Runa, I am not simply reciting any fable; in order to live with us you must understand what we do.”  
“You may tell me bluntly, but do not try to simplify the story into metaphors. I can comprehend more than what you believe, please.”  
The movement to my left almost made me jump. Demar had closed the book that had distracted his attention from the moment I arrived; when I looked his luminous eyes could have burned my own out of my skull. He turned to Recian, “You cannot just tell her, she will never believe you. Let her find out for herself and if she runs, who cares? No one will believe a homeless child’s gibberish on the streets.”  
I stood, there was a broad difference between Recian’s and Demar’s way of calling me a child. Recian was kind, caring, and fatherly. Demar was negative and demeaning. I wished I could say something but every second Demar’s eyes blocked my every thought.  
“Both of you, please, sit.” I refused to take my seat until Demar did, that he could not stop me from. Slowly, Demar returned to his novel; and I returned to my perch on the large chair. I turned back to Recian but kept my peripheral view on Demar. “Volcan,” Recian nodded and strode next to my chair. “Volcan will make this more believable, Runa. I encourage you to remain calm despite anything that happens.”  
Volcan stood and moved his chair a couple meters from the table. He adjusted his stance looking at me and winking. He put his hands beneath his face and wiped upwards, at first I did not notice any change until he returned my gaze with Recian’s face.  
Startled I retracted back in my chair drawing my knees to my chest. I looked back and forth from Recian and… Recian? Demar even peered up at me. Cautiously, I crawled from my chair and edged around the table, keeping all of them in view. When I reached Volcan still disguised as Recian, I lifted my hand to his face touching the firm cheek. What is this magic? I had never encountered anything that should be of the fictional world, did I die? Was I in a dream? I searched his head for any signs of proof this was fake; but I found none. “Do it again.” The Recian in front of me blinked in disbelief. “Do it again.” I repeated in a firmer command.  
Once again he put his hands beneath his chin and began to reveal a black bearded chin, an arching nose, and fiery orange eyes. This time Demar stood in front of me. This time I touched the face not for reassurance, but to touch what seemed to be the untouchable. I flushed for my improper imaginings of a man. When I returned from my mind, Volcan was himself again. “It is simply impossible! Can you do animals?”  
“I am a shape-shifter; I can transform into anything.”  
“What about a bird?” This time, instead of covering his face, in a blink he was a bright red cardinal. “Magnificent.” I was no longer bewildered by Volcan extraordinary abilities, but curious in all that he could become; so many questions!  
But before I could ask them, my mind turned back to Recian’s statements. “You are a vampire.” I turned to Demar, “You are a werewolf.” My gaze remained on Demar, to be infatuated with a supernatural being; I wonder what reputation that would give me if I had one. Demar returned my stare for only a moment quickly furrowing his brow, closing his book, and standing. I flushed and turned to Recian, “It was you.”  
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”  
“You made the rumors of this church so you could live here peacefully and undisturbed. The city believes you to be Death himself, but you are simply feeding on the poor.”  
“We do what we must to survive.”  
“But what I do not understand is, why spare my life? I was even less than the others; yet you picked me up and brought me here, why?”  
“Runa, do not assume that you are lesser, nor greater than anyone. I saved you because there was something special about you. I have been watching you from the time you were born. Even in your weakened state, your aroma was more pungent than those whom I was feeding. Your blood, I believe it is something that I had only heard in legend and vague prophesy. Runa, I believe you are the chosen, the one that can withstand the war between bloods, the ultimate weapon, but more than that, you could be the one that is the mediate between the breeds.”  
My heart sank; I hoped it was something so much simpler. I thought that maybe, someone did want me. To an extent I guess this is the same, but do they do not want me, they want what I could become. I wanted to run back to the corner of the alley. I wanted to hide… to die.  
“Runa, are you alright?”  
I fought the urge to leave, “What do you want me to do?” I could not obscure the monotone of my voice, as I was going through the motions of a dutiful member of society.  
Recian tilted his head to the side, “Tara, know that just because I saved you so you could help us, does not mean that we do not want you as a member of this family. I would not allow you to die in that filthy alley with the rats. You remind me of my daughter.”  
I blinked up at him how could he understand everything I was thinking from just my expression?  
“I can read minds, Runa.”  
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to do; it explained how he knew my name, but should I blacken my mind, should I choose my thoughts as well as my words, how much did he know? I kept looking at him, frozen, trying not to think.  
“I will not read your mind unless necessary, Runa. It is your mind, so I will not intrude on your thoughts.”  
I relaxed, relieved that he does not know everything, and would respect my privacy. Although, I could not completely trust that he would do this.  
“Don’t think you can lie, though, he will intrude on that anytime he pleases.” Volcan mumbled curses slouching in his chair. Demar, was leaning on the table with his arms crossed impatiently. He was so beautiful and I longed to touch him again, but how could he be so crude?  
“Well, I guess you were right, Recian, she was able to grasp the idea. I am just waiting for her to go into shock; which will more likely happen in the most inopportune time.” He smirked and walked out of the door towards what I assumed was a type of kitchen. I wanted to follow him, but that would only emphasize my infatuation for him.  
“Don’t mind him, Runa, he is the only one that is able to have the most gifts, yet find something wrong with the situation.” Volcan smiled, and for a moment I felt wanted.

Recian, Volcan, and I stayed up till the windows lit up from the arising sun. Volcan and I were exhausted, and Recian suggested us to retire and that we could continue our discussion after we have received some rest.  
Before Recian was turned, he was a physician, and over the years has improved his studies combining different theories, he wasn’t able to assist the humans due to their suspicions of witchcraft and devil worship, so unfortunately for our ancestors, the cure for the Black Death remained unknown. He explained that after he changed the war between bloods started and he began looking for a way to make peace; he soon heard a rumor of the hybrid to stop the war.  
Recian explained that he still needed to run some tests, be sure of the ability to transform into such a being, otherwise I will die a slow agonizing death. Strangely at this comment, I was not taken aback or frightened by the thought of a painful death, or death at all in that matter. After being huddled in the dark corner of the alley, death did not frighten me, but seemed as though it would be a reunion with a best friend, or even… father.

We all headed to the hall that branched off into a dozen rooms. Recian’s was one of the first, leaving Volcan and me with a caring goodnight. Volcan practically vibrated with energy, “We are really happy to have you here Runa, even though Demar is being sour about the situation, trust me he was like that when Recian first brought me in.”  
“So they have been together for a while now, I assume.”  
“Actually, Demar is Recian’s son.” I looked in disbelief, “I don’t know all of the details; Recian never told me how they were turned but when he was, he wanted to share his gift with his family. But he didn’t stop, and killed his daughter. His wife had fled with Demar and wasn’t heard from till Demar decided to return to his birthplace after his mother died of a bear attack. You could probably guess what really happened. And they have been here ever since. I try not to ask anymore; the subject is a bit touchy.”  
With that, Volcan wished me goodnight as I shut the door to what was now my room… my home.


	4. Strange

I don’t know what I thought my dreams would be; once again my mind was black and swirling with grays and browns. I could feel the lumpy cobblestones beneath my bare dirty feet; the cold damp walls against my mostly bare back; and worst of all, I saw my father looming over me with raw fury in his eyes. He raised his arms above his head with hands clenched in fists. Over and over again he brought them down on me; I could feel every single blow on my face, arms, torso, and legs. He began shaking me and screaming my name…  
“Runa, Runa wake up!” I forced my eyes open to find Volcan in dim candlelight shaking me with Recian and Demar standing by my bed.  
“Well at least she stopped screaming, I am going to bed.” Demar turned to exit the room.  
Before he could leave I meekly apologized, “I am sorry I disturbed you.” He paused briefly at the door and continued into the hall. I peered up at Recian and Volcan’s faces, “I am sorry; I don’t know what happened.”  
“It was only a simple night terror, dear, nothing to apologize for.” Recian was now sitting beside me with his right arm across my shoulders. “Volcan will stay with you until you are fast asleep with pleasurable dreams. Now lay back and sweet dreams.” Recian took his leave and left the door slightly ajar.  
“I don’t think it is possible for me to have pleasant dreams ever again.”  
“Recian is not the only one with special talents.”  
“I don’t believe that your shape-shifting will influence good dreams.”  
“I have a slightly different way of allowing you a restful sleep. Consider it like hypnosis, I can impose a thought or vision in anyone’s mind, it is useful in battles and such, but this will be my first time influencing dreams.”  
I was timid of the thought of him manipulating my mind, but anything in the boundaries that he promised was better than my father beating me to death. “I may have to warn you though; it will not be so easy for me to fall asleep again.”  
“I have all the time in the world.” I scooted over to allow him to sit next to me. He was not wearing a shirt, just dark pants that I have never seen the like of; this allowed me to see a quite muscular body covered in an ocean of light freckles. A patch of hair stretched itself evenly across his chest; it was sparse, and mostly noticeable because of the coloring of brilliant orange that matched his mane. His hands rested in his lap as he stared at the singular candle that seemed to burn brighter than what I would expect. I could only glance at the figure of Volcan beside me, trying not to blush at his indecency. The only man that sat on my bed was my father, and I had never seen anything more than the naked forearms of the men who worked on the ships and in the market. I realized that living in an abandoned church with three men, I would have to get used to such indelicacies of a half naked male sitting on my bed in the middle of the night.

When I awoke, Volcan was no longer in my room. The candle had been blown out and the door was completely open. Glancing at the window I could tell that it was close to noon. I took the quiet and solitude to observe the strange surroundings once more. I ran the thought of living with three supernatural men in an abandoned church through my mind; I still couldn’t find the fear that should logically envelope me, I assumed that it was because I had already been exposed to the harshness that living in a small corner in the alley could impose, but even then, that was nothing compared to what could potentially happen here.  
I tried to reflect on the dream that Volcan gave me last night, but I could not remember any detail of it. I tried not to think about any possibilities that he could have invoked, they could have been horrifying or too pleasant that could make me blush.  
I got off the perfectly square bed and turned to look at how clean and white it was. The pearl silk sheet was artfully crumpled in the middle of the bed in soft waves. It seemed such a foolish thought but, if anything would make me stay it would be the comfort of waking up on such a beautiful piece of furniture every morning.  
In the corner of the room was a dark mahogany wardrobe, carved with vines that sprawled across the door and framed the edges. Upon opening the door I found beautiful garbs in almost every color known to man. This was simply too much, I had never had this many clothes in my entire lifetime. I could accept the home, I could keep my part, going to the market and cooking supper if necessary, maybe clean the rooms regularly and earn my keep, but how could I earn this many gorgeous pieces. Afraid of what I would find, I opened the small drawers to find even more clothing, corsets, and undergarments. Above the drawers was a small box, similar to my mother’s where she would keep her valuables such as jewelry and savings. Once again my eyes widened in fear of all of the jewels that sparkled and shined with frightening wealth. “I can’t accept this, this is too much indeed.”  
“Do not be ungrateful, it is unbecoming.”  
The voice made me jump with a slight squeak. I turned to find Demar leaning against the door frame. “I am not ungrateful, but how could I ever repay you for this, I can work for my keep, but this is suitable for a queen, not one such as me.”  
“Well you are the only person that will be able to wear them around here, so I suggest you not complain about earning anything and dress yourself up nice and pretty.” He spat the last words like poison, I narrowed my eyes at his belittling suggestion, but unfortunately I could not think of a suiting remark for him before he dragged himself down the hall towards the dining hall I assumed.  
I could not give Demar the satisfaction of commanding me about like I was a child. I harnessed the simplest attire I could find and made my way toward the dining hall, figuring that I would be happy to remain a slave here for eternity; I doubted they would have any unconventional demands.  
Due to the relativity to lunchtime, I was surprised to find a plate with three eggs and a slice of ham in the place I sat last night. “Well are you just going to stand and admire it or sit and eat?” Once again Demar caught me off guard and did not hesitate to talk as if I were an incessant child.  
“Some people learn to enjoy the small almost unnoticeable things in life, because they understand how easily they can be lost.” I remarked quite crisply.  
He did not reply, but refused to leave out a sneer, or was it a slight smile that touched those beautiful lips? I could hardly tell in the shadow of the pristine black beard that I longed to caress even when I was flustered with his constant snide remarks. My thoughts carried me away only to find myself blushing at such quality of fantasies. I lowered my gaze and perched myself on the giant chair at the broad table and gingerly, still in a slight daydream, poked at the golden center of the eggs.  
“Hello Runa, how did you sleep?” I startled at Volcan’s booming voice that blasted through my serene fantasies. “I am sorry I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”  
“No, no it is quite alright. I slept well, thank you Volcan.”  
“Splendid, then the dream was to your liking?”  
“Actually, I don’t remember my dream at all; not even the general state of it.” I heard Demar smirk at the end of the table behind the great book that he was reading the night before. My courage raged passed my better judgment, “Is there something you would like to say Demar?” I tried glaring at him, but could only half way close my eyes to show disapproval; as my mind was still wondering to that far away place that could never come true.  
“Not anything that should be said in front of a lady.”  
“Then you should have no problem saying it as I see no lady in this room. Or have you forgotten that I was merely plucked from the streets by people who do not exist, although this does not intend a contradiction of my gratitude for you letting me stay in your home.” I could have never pronounced such harsh accusations before my father, but something about Demar made the worst of me become prominent; but that did not stop me from the shame I felt.  
Demar’s eyes glowered at me, actually scaring me; they resembled too much of my father’s eyes in my dream. I could not help to look away squeezing my eyes shut trying to block out the terrible memory. “I am sorry—,” I released my eyelids still looking down at my strained knuckles. “I think of you as a lady, and you should not have to suffer the harsh commentary between brothers.” His voice was sincere, but I still could not bring myself to look at him. I scurried away from the table towards my room; the last thing I heard was Volcan scolding Demar for his insensitivity. Recian mentioned a polite ‘good afternoon’ as I passed but said no more when I mimicked his acknowledgment.  
Upon reaching my room, I curled up on the pure white bed wrapping the silvery sheets around me. I gazed out of the window into the forest that bordered the entire town. No one except travelers, traders, and bandits went into the woods; my father told tales of spirits and trolls that would take you away and gobble you up before the nights end. I could recall as a young child playing with other children in the town, goading each other to enter and tell us of their findings. As my father raised me to be unafraid of monsters or any other supernatural being, I would confidently go into the woods, but when I would come out the other children would be gone and tease me about my boldness and stupidity; they would tell me that one day I will be eaten by a troll, or even worse I would join the trolls in their barbaric ways. I would always reply that they were just fables; but they refused to listen and continued patronizing me with their silly scenarios.  
A gentle knock came from my door frame, “Hello,” at least this time, Demar announced his presence instead of startling me, but I did not turn over to acknowledge him. “Please forgive my rudeness towards you this morning, I was out of place.” His voice was forced and awkward, but I was not looking for an apology, in fact I was not expecting anything from him.  
“You do not have to apologize, Demar.”  
“We parted in a tense moment; I feel that an apology is anticipated from me.”  
“And what, may I ask, are you apologizing for exactly?”  
He hesitated; I knew he was trying to find a better reason than calling me a lady. “For upsetting you.” His response was short and crisp pleading me not to look further into an explanation.  
I sat up and faced him. He was leisurely leaning against the entry with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his left foot crossing over the other. His expression was calm and was looking at some crack in the floor as if it were miles away. “I should apologize to you. I was being silly taking offence to a compliment. I am truly sorry.”  
When our eyes connected he furrowed his brow and gave a slight shake of his head. Abruptly, he retreated from my room and presumably back to the dining area, I could not help but long after him. Never had I wanted a man so, and never had I seen such a man; he would have been the man my father would be proud to have as a son. I buried my face in the singular pillow. How pitiful and foolish I am; no one could ever want me, especially not a man like Demar.  
Every moment I spend here makes me think of my father, and the words he would say if he saw me. I could only wish my mind would stop lingering on the subject of my father, and how absolutely worthless I am. I tried thinking of how much Recian needed me; but somehow my father’s face would return and the self pity that I reviled so would flood my every thought. I had to do something besides think about the past.  
I decided to wonder around the church, not looking for anything, but if I was to stay here for the rest of my life I needed to know my way around. I began outside and worked my way in.  
I trailed around the great stone building with a shawl pulled tightly around my shoulders keeping out the midday chill. The sun barely peeked through the clouds anymore foreshadowing rain. The town on the west side of the church was nestled in the curve of the bottom of the steep hill. I watched the tiny figures as they scurried through the streets and among the great vessels that floated in the dark mass of water that reached to the far distant lands of the colonies.  
My thoughts wondered to that of the new land. Almost every man that would purchase from my father’s business would constantly grumble and complain about the land, gold, and politics. They were all foolish. Power was naïve.  
I moved to the rear of the church to find more than a dozen tombstones. I couldn’t make out any names or dates due to the erosion; I could only assume they were the remains of those lost to the plague before the abandonment.  
I looked out towards the dark woods that almost enveloped the small property where the church was. Now that I knew the supernatural realm existed, I wondered what actually loomed in the shadows of the dark woods. Creatures with yellow eyes, scales and claws, and rumbling growls and howls that could turn joyful laughter into blood curdling shrieks; beings that could take the form of your greatest friend and dig into your soft belly at the turn of night. I began to sing my mother’s lullaby.

A drop of cold rain snapped me out of my trance, realizing that I was smiling. Curious, I do not remember going to the forest; but there I was, standing at the edge looking out over the dim little town. It began to downpour before I even started to run. The church was further away than anticipated; I was completely drenched when I reached the kitchen door.


	5. Return

After finding dry clothes, I entered the dining room in an all together better mood than I had been in since I could remember. None of the men were there so I returned to the kitchen to find something to settle my hunger. I could only find dried meat which for me seemed sufficient. Before I could begin to appease my eager stomach, Recian glided through the doorway. He took a quick glance at me before removing the tough nub from my fingers.  
“Here, dear one, this should be adequate for prime sustenance, not this questionable substance that may be three weeks, or hundreds of years old.” He placed golden pieces in my hand.  
I did not hesitate. My entire existence was modest and apologetic, but after my tour of the grounds, I realized that this was my family and they wished me more happiness than that of my treacherous father that tossed me out with no charge. “Thank you, should I purchase something for any of you?”  
“Buy whatever you think we would like best, my child, I am sure your taste will please us all.”  
Before I turned to leave I saw a strange expression cross his face; it was quickly replaced when he picked up the hunk of dried meat and started for the cemetery… maybe to feed the beasts in the woods.

I clasped the large weaved basket in one hand swinging it to and fro as I nearly skipped down the slope towards the market.  
When I reached the town, my modesty returned in a giant wave of fear of disapproval. I hid against the corner of the large house that marked the border of the town and the unspeakable distance. I clutched the basket to my chest, questioning where the confidence in the church had gone. Were they going to ask where I acquired such riches? The rumor of my disposal had to already spread through the community. What was I to say when they inquired who was giving me such hospitality? I could imagine the faces of fear and spite if I answered Death.  
Ultimately, I decided to refuse to answer such questions if asked, but I still feared what would become of me if they suspected me of stealing the money. Breathing deeply, I stepped into the busy street. At first no one seemed to notice the estranged figure advancing into town, but once the curious eyes found my face the whispering commenced. Most were startled and scurried away, as if I were a spirit that wished for vengeance against those who wronged me. Once again the thought of the carnivorous monster flooded my thoughts, and strangely gave me more confidence with each step, as if they had every right to be terrified of my returning presence in the town. Yet again, a smile tainted my lips in a dreadful joy.  
This was not a new attitude, but it was new that I did not restrain the normally terrifying thoughts. I enjoyed hideous tales of monsters and creatures of the dark; when I was younger I would make up stories to tell the other children when their parents asked me to watch over them. After make them tremble at the mere names of the gruesome beasts, I would proceed to tell of a light-hearted being like a fairy, but altogether I adored the idea of dark versions of what most fooled them in thinking they were kindly. However, the part of my mind that reveled in obscurity remained unknown to those around me. I quickly replaced the smile with a timid look towards the thawing stones.  
In the market, I decided to start with the butcher as it seemed the easiest choice, as I was sure that they could not refuse such a supreme cut of beef. There were not many choices in the area of vegetables and fruits, but I was able to find enough to make a hearty stew and enough apples to last for a few weeks. The most trouble was the judgmental stares and the raised brows, but none stopped me, and none bothered to ask; they simply stared and spoke in hushed tones as I passed.  
Upon my return, Volcan immediately relieved me of the cumbersome basket and dug through its contents. “Do you know how long it has been since I’ve had a well prepared meal? We usually have to go to the next town which is a day’s walk for me; and I am a shape-shifter! Of course, Demar and Recian can live off of blood alone so they refuse to assist me, and here I would have to steal it.”  
“Why would you have to steal from the market?”  
“Because my mother and grandmother may spot me; I used to be known as Jon, but once I first changed my family thought I had been possessed, so naturally I found out about Recian and faked my own death. It was a new situation, new home, new family, so I decided that a new name would complete the idea.”  
“Jonathan Murphy?”  
“So you have heard of me; well, I suppose, who in the town wouldn’t; ‘the boy who had been claimed by the Devil himself’.”  
“It was a very quiet ceremony. We thought for sure your grandmother would pass that year.”  
“Isn’t she a prime performer, she hardly shown any affection to me when I was younger.” For the first time I found a glint of sadness in Volcan’s eyes, but only for a moment before he placed the basket on the counter and stepped out the back door. It was then I realized that dealt with the same family situation as I; but I could only hope to be as joyful as he was almost every moment of everyday.

 

Cooking was a joy, it was a constant, but always open to change. Lighting the wood, filling the large pot with water, cutting the vegetables and meat, and adding simple spices from out in the garden that hugged the south side of the church; it was relaxing and comforting.  
I jumped out of my trance when Demar appeared, “That is the most appetizing smell that has ever passed my nose.” He approached and picked up an apple lifting it to his mouth to take a bite. I had never seen anyone eat an apple so magnificently graceful, none of the juice dared to smear his lips and chin. I did not allow my mind to yearn for him, nor wonder how his lips would taste on mine; but I could not stop my hands from shaking from the proximity of his splendor to my body; I realized this had been the closest I had ever been to him.  
“I believe that is the most pleasant thing you have ever admitted in my presence.”  
He only responded with the crisp bite of the pink apple. He hopped up and perched on the counter next to the vegetables. He had always been so stiff and proper, but at this moment he was a boy, relaxed and carefree; almost vulnerable.  
“If you love the smell of cooking so much why not cook yourself?”  
“Because it is a nuisance to cook food, I am not very patient; if I want food I don’t want to wait for it to boil. You however, seem in your element, how can you stand to wait.”  
“I have always enjoyed cooking; I especially loved helping my mother make supper before my father came home, even though I may have only washed the potatoes. For me it is much like art; it takes work to become something beloved by all.”  
“Hmm,” He pondered my response, “may I?” I turned at his question to find him centimeters from me offering to take the knife from my hand. Quickly and without question I handed it to him and moved from the cutting board. He immediately began slicing the carrots quicker than I ever could.  
“You seem to be more practiced than I at cutting carrots.” My voice hinted mockery, which was quite dangerous to do to Demar; so dangerous that I winced when he desisted chopping. “Forgive me, I did not mean to scoff.”  
“There is no need; it seems that we are even now.” He gently laid the knife on the counter and retreated to the dining hall.  
Things were going so well, and I ruined it. I was both irritated and saddened; did he honestly come here to settle a nonexistent debt with me? Now I could not help but question his motive if he approached me alone.

When the stew was finished I brought out the bowls and spoons to the table ready to fill with the thick soup. Before I could call the three men hurried through the door with an excitement in their eyes. Each waited impatiently for me to sit so they could begin to devour the steaming stew.  
I did not realize how much they could eat, bowl after bowl they consumed while I could barely finish two; I may have to go to the market more than I would like, or buy more each time.  
“Extremely well done, Runa, this has been the most delicious stew I have had in decades.” I smiled and nodded, slightly blushing at the compliment. “Where ever did you learn such culinary skills?” Recian sat gleaming at me.  
“Her mother,” I turned unexpectedly at Demar. He glanced up at us and quickly added, “Is that not where every girl learns to cook?” He scoured at his meal.  
“Actually, my mother died before she could teach me real cooking skills; those I had to learn on my own.” Demar hesitated. “But yes, she passed down her love for cooking to me.”  
“Of course,” Recian continued to finish his supper.  
They all remained in silence until I excused myself to retire; almost immediately after I exited the room I heard whispering between the boys. Although there was a part of me that worried what they had to say about me that I could not hear; I did not stay to eavesdrop.


	6. Bewitched

I began to settle into a quaint routine. I would go through the rooms, dusting and cleaning, making and remaking each bed, strolling through around the church to check for any damage that could be fixed, and saved a day of the week to travel to the market for supplies. I even began a couple gardens for vegetables and flowers to maybe brighten the aura of the property. Cooking three meals a day and baking a few delicacies took a good part of my day helping keeping myself busy, which kept my mind off of everything. I began experimenting recipes and trying to something that I could call my own.  
Every now and then I would take a walk along the edge of the woods. They were no longer terrifying, they were vibrant with life. Butterflies fluttered though the cracks of the trees, and every time I would brave going deeper and deeper into them.  
Each week going to the market became less painful, but it was not due to the decrease in spiteful whispers; my ignorance to the muttering reduced my self-conscience to a small tingling in the small of my back.  
I no longer felt like an outsider during supper; each would tell stories of their past and of the war, and would tell of their latest hunt. I listened with joy; new tales of the realm that has been hidden in plain sight excited my imagination. Soon it began to affect my dreams.  
Each night I was running through the woods beside the others; I could almost feel the wind against my face, my dark hair was free and my dress was scandalously short which allowed my legs to freely extend into my stride. Sometimes I felt as though I would slightly come out of sleep and through the crease in my eyelids I could see the flickering of the candle which was quite odd when I knew I had extinguished it before I drifted to pleasant dreams. Occasionally, I could see a shadow in the dimness, but as I believed I was dreaming I figured it was only a part of the illusion.  
Despite the lightness of sleep, I always awoke well rested. At times I would hum a song of my own imagination that suited my mood. Even when going to town I would hum, which set the crowd astir. In those moments not even they could damper my mood; until a word passed their lips that would be the death of me. Witch.  
“I have seen her lingering around the cursed place, planting a garden of herbs, no doubt for her potions. And what’s worse is she goes to the woods to converse with her master. After her father cast her out she has pledged revenge against not only him, but the entire town! Heed my words, she is a witch.” The elderly woman spat the words as she glared at my every step.  
All of the fear that I had in the ally and my first return to the town were small compared to the dread and worry that engulfed my spirit at the accusation of being a witch. I knew what would happen to me if they took action; they would persecute me at my own home, find me living with the three men, torture me till I admitted to guilt, and more likely than not, burn me at the stake. No one would defend me, and Recian, Volcan, and Demar would not count as allies as the town would probably suspect them still under my spell. No one of my known standing would survive the accusation. I had to do something. I had seen what repercussions come when someone shouts witch.

When I was a little girl, my mother would take me with her to visit the woman who raised her after her mother died giving birth, she was plump and sweet and many years ago she would have been considered beautiful. It seemed that the town loved her; as she would go to church, cook the most wonderful meals for festivals, and even welcome travelers and the poor into her rather large inn on frosty winter nights. She was the mother of the people.  
When a small sickness spread through the town she made remedies that cured all, and did not ask for anything in return. However, many of the other women became jealous and influenced their husbands to try her as a witch. My mother and father were her only witnesses that stood against the council. If I were older I would have stood with them, but I was just a child; but I was not spared from watching the cruel wrenching of the old woman as men that we would look to for advice would cut and grind her skin and bones. But she seemed to endure the maiming; not once did she cry out, or beg for her life. Till the end she held a face of stone and disappointment. The only people that did not weep when her life faded was herself and the ones that took it from her.  
During mourning, all came to the door to give our family their apologies and condolences, my mother turned them away with their gifts calling them hypocrites and cursing their names to hell for the ungodly thing they allowed to happen. My father would scold her for doing such a thing but she refused to be accepting of their foolishness and regret. Since then I had watched many trials, burnings, and hangings; always wondering if they were just a sweet kind lady or if they did have the power to damn us to hell. But in the end I figured they were all innocent because if I were a witch I would curse the entire town before they could kill me. 

 

I glanced fearfully at my accuser; I recognized her as Mrs. Baker who lived with her husband and son across the way from my father’s business. She was a fierce woman that wouldn’t take no for an answer and her husband was a simple bystander when she was present. Most people listened to her because she was so demanding, but as the years past she has become sickly with memory loss; some of the town’s people have begun to label her as a crazy hag. She was the first to join the accusing of the sweet lady that raised my mother. But once she started speaking of witchcraft, all became suspicious.  
I wasted no time in making my purchases and scurrying out of the buzzing streets. I could feel piercing eyes burn holes in my back, but I dared not turn around.

I came through the back entrance into the kitchen and slumped against the counter trying to catch my breath and settle my fears. I could hear Recian speaking in the dining room. I edged closer to listen.  
“She has to make her own choices.”  
Demar piped in, “You heard Volcan, she wants this. She marvels at the dreams induced by Volcan. Was that not the point of this experiment, to see if she would be accepting of the gift?”  
“This is different Demar, it will not be like you or I, where she could die in the correct circumstances; she will live forever if she chooses to become a hybrid. There is also the point that I may be wrong and she may not be able to handle the bloods. We have to take into account that it will not be like in her dreams, and put into perspective that she may not survive such a trauma.”  
“Then we must all be wrong, and that the scent that has spread through the entire church is just natural human. There is no reason for any doubt on her surviving. Each day she becomes fonder of the fact that she may live with us forever if she changes. She may not know about her true self yet, but I believe her to be strong willed, and can endure the war of bloods.”  
“I believe her to be strong as well, even if she just fights with her subconscious. I have to stand with Demar.” Volcan’s voice was quiet.  
“I am not arguing whether or not she should change; I too believe that she can bear such a process, but I think we should wait for her true spirit to come through. I refuse to force her into anything as tricky as becoming a hybrid.”  
I slowly came through the door without a word and stood quietly. None noticed as they were sitting close to Recian’s place with Demar being the most likely to notice my presence first.  
“Do recall the last one that we tried to changed. We were too hasty and therefore paid for it dearly. We cannot—” Demar cleared his throat. They all turned and faced me, making me feel as a mouse cornered by the house cat. They did not move and did not speak.  
I took the silence as my queue to respond. “I can handle it.” I knew I did not have to think about it. Even though I knew there was a possibility of death; I had prepared myself long enough to meet him, no matter the cause. The only thing that truly shocked me was the ability to live forever.  
“Runa, we must discuss this, we cannot jump straight to desires that may be more than what you wished for.” Recian got up from his chair and held his hands out to me signaling his want for my approach.  
“I do not fear death, Recian. For many years I thought you were him, so I know that I will be welcomed with open arms.”  
“And of life; if you agree you will never be able to see such a man as Death who you have become acquainted with ever again.”  
“True, the thought of eternal life does frighten me, but is that not what God promises all of his children? Either way, I will be frightened, but the thought of life with you three forever soothes me.”  
“You see Recian, she has been chosen rightfully.”  
“Again, let us not be impulsive. I wish for a week of your thoughts on the matter, Runa, if by the end of that period your choice is the same we will begin our preparations.”  
“I will begin supper.” I made my way back to the kitchen. I understood why Recian did not want to rush my decision, but somehow I knew that even though Volcan induced my dreams, there was a part of me that felt as though he did not affect all of what occurred in them. I would day dream about running with Demar, Volcan, and Recian. Sometimes I found myself wondering if I becoming like him would make me seem more desirable to Demar. However, I knew that Demar’s interest should not be my only reason for wanting to become like them.  
It seemed that no matter what I tried, Demar always invaded my mind, and I struggled to keep his influence out of my decisions. When I make his bed in the morning, I wonder if he thinks me silly for trying. But he had not spoken to me about anything that I have done since the moment in the kitchen. But on the other hand, I could not take my mind off of the fact that it seemed he wanted me to be changed.  
But it also disturbed me that it seemed he wanted to force this upon me as they did my dreams. Although, I questioned their motives and intent, my mind did not change.  
My thoughts delved into his darkened skin and fiery orange eyes. I closed my eyes to the vivid picture of his eyes scouring every inch of my body as a faint chill followed his fingers across my skin but did not touch. My breath hitched as his distant fingers hovered over my torso. In my mind I reached out to touch his figure through his constant dark shirt.  
“Is it that difficult to cut the potato?” I almost jumped out of my skin; of course he would see me as my thoughts were unconventionally unladylike. I could feel my entire face become warm as I blushed. I began to dice the potato quickly.  
“How long have you been standing there?”  
“A few minutes; I was going to leave but I wanted to see the verdict.” I could not look at his face; I could not look at him. Of course he was prying. I could already feel myself being pulled to him with just his presence. How could someone do this to me? I sometimes wondered if everyone felt like this; I wondered if this is how my mother felt when she met my father.  
“It is rude to lurk in doorways, Demar.”  
“Forgive my lack of manners; shall I knock next time?”  
“It will make no difference to me, either way you give me a start.”  
I heard a chuckle, “I guess I should not bother you or make sure you are alert; which is a slim possibility.”  
“Maybe you shouldn’t—” I stopped myself before I regretted the words that almost came. I wanted him to leave me alone so my feelings could settle instead of fluctuate like the sea in the middle of a storm.  
“I shouldn’t what?” I realized that I stopped cutting the potato, I closed my eyes. I wished he had not asked me to continue.  
I sighed, knowing he would not leave until I continued, but when I turned I was surprised to be being close to his chest, the one that I had just been fantasizing about. I thought about my words to make them seem less harsh, “M-maybe you shouldn’t scare me so?” It was more of a question than what had first came to mind.  
“I do not see how that is my fault; it seems more a suggestion to yourself.” I forced myself to finish dicing the potato. I heard Demar take another step closer to me; I abruptly picked up the eight pieces of the single potato and rushed awkwardly to the water next to the fireplace. I searched for more tasks to do near the fire away from Demar, but there was nothing. I stood looking at the fireplace a second too long. “Tell me, Runa, why do you want to change.” He was still, but I felt as though I was the only one that was sensing the earth shaking beneath me. “Is it because of the dreams?”  
“No.” I wished I would have said yes so I would not have to explain why; even so, I would have to explain my confirmation.  
“Then why?” His voice was almost a growl.  
“Why do you want me to change?” My voice was shallow and timid in contrast to his. I could feel in the air his shock; I had caught him off guard. He knew that I heard their conversation, how did he not expect me to ask?  
He immediately changed his stance, “I don’t care if you change, I was simply—”  
“No! You cannot do that!” He took a step back. I could not contain my rage any longer. I was not going to tolerate his ignorance. He cannot change his mood, not now. “I will not allow you to act as if you do not care when you were the one who approached me. If you do not care then why are you here?” He was straining to keep his face calm, but I could see that he was disturbed. I waited for him to recover. This place has brought me to find my voice; I had more confidence and have said things I would have gotten slapped if I had said them elsewhere.  
We stood in silence as my dark blue eyes poured into his. He was not the only one straining to hold their position. My mind was blank as I tried not to drift in dream.  
He was the first to break the stillness, his eyes ablaze even more so with the reflection of the fire. He put his hands on my waist and shoved me to the frame of the fireplace. I could feel the heat from the fire through my skirts and hear the water in the pot boiling. His wayward hairs brushed my forehead as his breath tickled my lips; I felt his hands at my waist almost bruising. This was so different from what I had imagined just minutes before. I watched his chest expand and retract as he breathed. One of my hands was holding his forearm; I could feel how tense his muscles were underneath the thin layer of dark coarse hair. His face lowered towards mine ever so slowly and my other hand reached to meet his cheek. Before my fingers could touch the smooth beard that surrounded his lips that I wished were upon my own, he pulled away and was out of sight.  
I was left leaning against the fireplace out of breath. I clutched my aching heart as it longed for him, pined for his return, and hating him for his sudden departure. Was this to be our contact? Was I to crave him without ever having any satisfaction? Did he expect me to agree to his terms only? I let my legs crumple as I curled up in front of the fire, sobbing with disappointment. 

During supper it was quiet and I did not look at any of them. The most unusual thing that occurred was my early withdrawal. I was not tired, but I refused to be in the same room. For Demar, it was a normal tension but for me, it was torturous.  
I pulled my knees up to my chest as I sat on the bed. A million thoughts raced around in my head, too many to actually think, but one theme were prominent: Demar.  
Two sides of my personality roared in my ears. One said to march to his room and make him understand my terms and speak my mind. The other wished me to remain on my bed and wallow in the pain as there was no chance he could hurt me here safe in the silky sheets. How could I allow a man to torture me so?


	7. The Stand

I sat on the white sheets well after dark without moving until I could not stand the stillness. I raced to the door swinging it open and sped down the hall before I could change my mind; but outside his door I froze. What was I thinking? What was I to say? I did not plan this. This was utter nonsense but I decided against my better judgment; oh how I wished I was still locked in my room. I considered creeping back to my room, but once again I had the confidence that made me run to this door. Without knocking I quietly slipped through the door, not thinking what awaited me on the other side.  
Only the moonlight shone through his window, spreading across the bed where he lay asleep nestled in piles of books. The sheets only covered his legs settling down embracing each crevice of his figure. One arm extended to the outer edge of the bed while the other tucked his hand behind his head. Even in the dim light his stature was magnificent. I stood in the doorway taking in his beauty and yearning to be wrapped in his chiseled arms and nuzzle the dark hair that spread across his bare chest.  
My craving guided my feet to the side of the bed. My bold thoughts drawing me to feel and touch the splendor of his body; I carefully lowered myself on the edge of the bed.  
What a foolish girl I was? The back of my mind nagged at what I was doing through the bars that I forced her behind. I turned my eyes away from him. Going back and forth between waking him and leaving; I tensed when he moved and I felt a hand next to mine. I thought that he awoke to the sound of my racing heart but when I glanced back at him he was turned on his side facing me; his stomach nearly touching my back. I dared not move or he may awake. What was I going to do? If I decided on no confrontation, I would wake him anyway; my only choice was to stay here until I figured out what to say.  
Unlike before, all the thoughts in my head deserted me with nothing. I was almost scared to breath, but listening to his steady breath was in its own intimidating way comforting. I was frozen, concentrating on breathing was difficult enough; how could I think of what to tell him. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to fight back the tears that threatened the wall that held me together. There was no running; I would sit here till he awoke or I would wake him and have nothing to stay.  
I was staring blankly at the wall when his hand wrapped around my wrist. I almost jumped out of my skin spinning around to see his head resting in his hand as he stared up at me.  
I could see a retort come to his mind as he smiled with his eyes, but he said nothing. Gently he pulled me down to him wrapping his hand behind my neck guiding me to his lips. I went easily, feeling more comfortable than in the kitchen. This was very different; we were not straining to be calm, he was gentle. It felt closer to my day dreams, but more pleasant.  
He adjusted his position to an upright position and picked me up and placed me sideways on his lap. I ran my fingers up his arms to his shoulders and down to his chest. Every second he watched my eyes while I traced patterns. I flattened my palm on his chest and glided it up to his neck simultaneously as his cradled my own. He placed his other hand on top of mine. The distance seemed so far but we managed to pull each other closer and meet in the middle. I allowed his tongue to explore the inside of my mouth and gradually move down my neck to my collarbone as he rolled the collar of my night dress past my shoulder.  
Every inch of my body was tingling with the feeling of wanting to be closer, even though our bodies were as close as possible. I tangled my fingers in his thick mane still allowing him his freedom of movement. He gently nipped and licked the skin of my neckline spreading goose bumps across my arms and legs.  
There was a gentle prodding in the back of my mind; a feeling of confusion. Why now? Has he always felt this way? Or was he playing a game; tricking me? Just before I could ignore the feeling he pushed me away, practically throwing me off of the bed standing up on the other side. I stood there, mentally naked and vulnerable.  
I was considering the rage that began to swell in the back of my mind when he pressed his face into the palm of his hands shaking it. “You stupid child,” he whispered. It wasn’t with disdain nor did he mean it in an insulting manner, it was more to the point he was punishing himself. He looked into my eyes dragging his hand down his face to meet beneath his bearded chin. “You are but a child compared to me. Yet you come here without fear.”  
“I did not come here without fear, but I did have more courage than I had ever possessed.” He raised his brows, staring at the wall in front of him. “But I must admit that it was not what I was planning.”  
“And what were you planning to do, sit on the edge of my bed till dawn?”  
“No, but I was planning to give the same message in a fiercer way.” the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “Why do you push me away?”  
He turned to me with a slight frown, “You are so naïve. I push you away because I have to; the age between us is too great, it can never be. I am simply trying to protect you, give you a choice.”  
“No.” He narrowed his gaze, “I do not need your protection, and you are not giving me a choice, but taking it away. You are being naïve. I am twenty- two years old and you seem to be not much older. I have taken into consideration how many years you have spent on this Earth but that makes no difference to me. My choice has been made; it is you that has to make your decision.”  
“You amaze me, Runa.” He crumpled on the bed. “You catch me off guard and make me feel as a child being scolded by a nanny. Forgive me; you are right that you are not naïve. But, I cannot allow you—”  
“You may not restrict me under any circumstances. I have been tossed out of my home, stripped of my dignity, been held on the cusp of life and death by being starved, naked, and cold, and been rescued by what I thought at the time the Reaper. I am competent enough to make my own decisions and feel what I wish about any individual as I so desire. Try as you may, but I do not require your approval or your blessing upon my choices, I will do as I like in spite of what you do or do not allow.” I started for the door when I heard him leap off of the bed and block my path to the door. I stopped before I collided with his towering figure. “You cannot change my mind, and cannot stop me from feeling as I—”  
He grasped my face and pulled it to his. I felt the need and want, but I had to resist taking advantage of the moment as I still felt that he didn’t understand my meaning. I pushed away. “Don’t tell me you have changed your mind already.”  
“I have not, but you must. I want commitment, as any lady would, but I cannot force you to change. I will not be teased by your indecisiveness. Excuse me.” I tried to walk past him but he stopped me.  
His hands slid down my arms gently, with his eyes softening into caring amazement. I waited for him to say something but he did not; he answered with a gentle kiss on my cheek and pulled me to his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and feel the soft hairs that were dispersed across his chest. I closed my eyes marveling at the affection he was showing me openly. But I would not know how he felt for sure until he could do this in front of Recian and Volcan.  
Kissing the top of my head he allowed me access to exit. Before I closed the door our eyes met, permitting me to see the warm smile that gave away longing.

I woke up that morning a little less rested than I would have liked to be but I knew I couldn’t give anything away; so I forced myself out of bed and traveled to the kitchen. I was surprised to seeing Demar already in the dining hall already reading a new book from the library. I recalled the amount of books that I vaguely remembered through what seemed like a dream. His collection was the only thing that littered his room. But I never figured out what he was constantly reading. But I decided it was a question for another time. I silently walked past to the kitchen.  
He did not come into the kitchen with me, and did not speak to me all through breakfast. As I suspected, although wished it wasn’t true, he did not wish the others to know, an absolute rejection. If he and I were ever going to be together, as I desperately wanted, we could not hide our affection from those whom we lived with. But I honestly did not understand why he did not want to tell them, unless he was trying to protect me by not trumping his influence in the decision to allow me to change; although I did not require his protection.  
A week passed on with the normal routine, without Demar speaking to me, but I did however catch him glancing every once and a while. I constantly reminded myself of my vow not to over analyze the situation or try to force him into something he obviously did not want to do; he had to come to me.  
But Demar was not the only thing on my mind; I still had to tell Recian that my decision had not changed on the topic of me becoming a hybrid. Truthfully, I was scared but that did not even budge the foot that I had planted on the subject. This was the only way that I was able to be loved and wanted forever by a family; and the only way I was ever going to repay them for all that they had done for me.


	8. Time

“What do you mean in a few weeks?”  
“Runa, it may take months, but I must insure your safety or this will be for nothing. I could not live with myself if things took a turn for the worst.”  
“I am dying every second of every day; I do not have the time to wait for everything to be insured.”  
“Runa, I assure you that you are in perfect health, you will not die for many years to come even if we did not go through with the process.”  
“You know that is not what I mean. My health may not kill me but I have a feeling that something else will.”  
“What do you mean, child?”  
“Every time I have gone to the town tension has been growing. I have people spread rumor of me being a witch! The next time I go to retrieve food for the week; they may hang me on the spot!”  
“We wouldn’t let that happen to you. We have the higher ground in the situation. If you are that worried I could go into town with you.” Volcan puffed up his chest in a prideful manner.  
“No, Volcan, people will recognize you.”  
“I can make myself look like a woman?” He was desperately wanting to help as best as he could; and no matter how much he tried to hide it I could still see the worry in his eyes.  
“The people will only accuse us of a coven; this will bring them up to the church despite the suspicion.”  
“Then I—” Volcan began but Demar, almost too hastily interrupted.  
“I will escort her to the town; they have never seen my face, and instead of being involved in a coven or whorehouse, it will seem as though she is being courted and is following society’s protocols in acquiring a husband to survive.” Demar’s brow was furrowed.  
I could see the slight glimmer of a smile on Recian’s face, as he recognized a purpose behind Demar’s words. Volcan shoveled a mouthful of eggs and plopped back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. I had to restrain a giggle.   
“Very well, Demar, you will accompany Runa to the town for her protection while we finalize the transformation. Is there any other concerns you have?”  
I looked down at my food disappointed that I could not shorten the time. “No, Recian.” The true reason was that I didn’t want another second to pass to guarantee that I would not age older than Demar looked. Although, I knew that was almost a decade, I couldn’t help but worry how long Recian’s process would take. 

Town was barely any different than the first run. Whispers, and pointed eyes surrounded us. On Demar’s arm I was terribly plain; how would this not lead to evidence of me being a witch? How could one such as I be courted by a man so beautiful. Demar would be the evidence that would tie me to the pyre. The only possible explanation would be that I seduced him into marriage or lied. With my standing; either would condemn me to death.  
I searched for the hatred in their prying eyes, but only found wonder in the men’s and lust in the women’s. It was then that I realized: they had no idea that I was on his arm. All they could see was the eyes that gleamed like the setting sun, and the dark tendrils that brushed at his collar bones, hidden behind deep blue cloth that made his skin shine with contrast even with the overcast sky.  
However, my assumption with the town being distracted by Demar would make my shopping easier, was very wrong. I found even more complications with his questioning glare and constant judgment along with the vendors being completely absorbed by his presence. We were in town at least three times longer than when I was by myself. Of course the salesmen also hurried to get me out of their shops before some event of bad luck could bring the roof down on top of their graying heads.   
Once I had fought a thousand debates and begged for focus, I was exhausted. But right as we were about to head back up the slope to the church; for the first time since Recian saved me, I saw his face. I expected rage or disgust, but instead fear flashed in his hazel eyes.   
It looked as though he had not groomed himself from the time when he abandoned me. His clothes were dingy and wrinkled, his beard was wiry, and his hair was not combed. I had always known my father to be well dressed and approachable, being one of the most trusted merchants in this small town, but now he looked like one of the smugglers that frequented this out of the way place to make dirty money.   
He did not keep eye contact. Instead he looked away and quickly shuffled back into his home.   
“Was that an old friend of yours?” I was in no mood for Demar’s shrewdness, without reply I turned and started for the hill.  
How could I have been so naïve in thinking that I would never have to see him again? My minds was now on leaving this place and never to return, at least never return as the same little girl.


	9. Fantasies

Fields of billowing blades of grass mimicked a golden lake at sunset that spread across the soft rolling hills of the land. The vignette sky was all that was visible in the distance. I could feel the cool fall breeze that brushed the tall stalks of grass against my legs and forearms. I let myself become absorbed in the shimmering image and before I knew it I was running, almost floating above the ground moving as gracefully as the swirling wind around me. This is what bliss was.  
Although, I was curious as to where the humming of my mother’s lullaby was coming from, it wasn’t my mother, or even a woman; but a deep bass carried the melody through the zephyr.  
I came to a lonely blossomed tree in the middle of the expanse. He was there, the one singing my lullaby. I almost mistook him for Demar, but his skin was as plaster and littered with scars compared to Demar’s dark perfect complexion. But he had the same dark hair that was scattered across his pectorals and disheveled mane that was always in front of his eyes. The tall grass lightly caressed his body with every gust. I commit his face to memory; I think he had green eyes… or were they brown? His nose was sharply arched… or was it small?  
I was compelled to lie next to him. Even without knowing his face I felt an eternal connection. I pressed my body against his and laid my head on his chest. I couldn’t get close enough. I didn’t want to leave him, this place, my dream… Would he be real outside of it? I needed him. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that when I opened them he would still be there.  
I did, and he was; but his body was charred and destroyed. His once marble skin was now black. I looked around and found the field just as destroyed; the tree no longer held protection for the scorching sun, the breeze had abandoned us.  
I felt seething pain draw across my face; he delicately put his hand on my cheek, “How could you?”

 

I woke up with my heart racing and a quickened breath. Tears were streaming down my face; I could still feel the heat from his touch on my face. But when I began to realize my surroundings, I was still in my nightmare. The trees around me were scalded my dress was tattered, and there was only silence beside my hurried and uncontrolled breath. A movement to my left cause me to start; I caught only a glimpse of his back walking away. I was now alone, in a mess that could only have been my fault. But how?

I tried getting up, but pain shot up my legs and scattered through the rest of my body. My bones were sharpened stakes hammered through my flesh to keep my limbs straight. My skin was restraining every bend and breath. The heat from the ashes did nothing to help my panicked breathing, and it only quickened at the sight of a thick layer of blood that splattered up my arms. I could only feel it on my face and neck. My intestines sloshed around in my belly and contracted, shoving everything from my stomach to the bare ground next to me. I was confused; how did I get here, where was here, why?  
I became light headed and flopped back to the ground and remained in this horrendous dream.


	10. Weak

Of course, I am weak; weak minded and weak hearted. When tossed out, I crawled into a dark corner and waited for death to take me. And when Death did take me, I depended on him to care for me. I was incapable of being alone, so much so that I would die before taking charge of my life. And now, here I am, bathed in blood in a dark forest and have no ideas as to how I came to be here.   
Without knowledge or consent I was becoming exactly what they feared me to be. Would God still forgive me; considering that I don’t know what has happened? Will He save me?  
I was not about to wait to see if the Holy Spirit would guide me safely out of the trees, at least not in this state. Despite the excruciating pain that rang throughout my extremities, I stood and began walking hoping to hear some sort of creek or stream. If I was in the area near the church there should be a river close by. I could wash all evidence of the woods in the water and follow it to the town.  
I thought of all of the consequences. Demar would think me a stupid girl for falling in the river at this time of year, Recian would be extremely worried, and I would more than likely catch cold. But I could not risk any of them to see me in this state. I could carry on the fallacy of accidentally slipping into the freezing waters, but there was absolutely no explanation I could muster for why I had to get into the river.  
After about half an hour of meandering around the trees in the fading light I finally could hear the faint whisper of moving water. I rehearsed every question that I could be asked in my head. I simply got lost in thought and didn’t realize how late it was and on my rush home I slipped on the rocks and fell into the river. I tried not to think about the blood that made my skin feel more efficient than my undergarments. It constricted and tightened every inch of my body. At first I thought that it was just on my arms, but walking revealed that it only bound the ash to me hiding what it truly was. I shuddered and sighed in relief at the slight glimmer of the river.   
I would have considered the dark waters as punishment until I realized that the aching pain alleviated the searing pain that previously enveloped me. But the cumbersome scrubbing became the true consequence. I tore the bottom of my already shredded dress and rubbed the coarse fabric on my supple fair skin. I was mistaken for thinking that I would only be a few minutes washing off the filth; but the crimson seemed to have soaked into my skin like dye. I could only pray that I had cleaned all of my face, neck, and hair. When I felt satisfied and less sticky I crawled out of the freezing water shivering. Every blast of air compelled my body into uncontrollable shakes.   
When I finally reached the church I was still dripping, I didn’t even make it to the dining hall. I just collapsed on the warm stones in front of the fire in the kitchen; once again, too weak to take care of myself.

I could barely open my eyes to see who found me; but I saw the coarse black hair on his dark skin. I groaned knowing what he must now think of me.   
“Hush now, you can tell us what happened after you get some rest and warm up.”   
I tried to tell him that it was an accident but I couldn’t even understand the mumbling that I managed to produce.  
I half expected him to throw my limp body over his shoulder like a sack of flour. But instead he delicately picked me up as though I was a porcelain doll. I couldn’t tell if it was a part of a dream, but once again I heard the lullaby…  
You heard him,  
Heard the Raven cry  
And now he will carry your soul  
Away, away  
From the light you have lost.

 

A pain shot through my brain as the morning light shone in my eyes. I pulled the covers over my head and turned away. I didn’t want to face the day. I wanted to lay here, become a part of my bed. I stretched out and found that the area of my bed next to me was warm. I must have been sleeping there not too long ago, but the retreating footsteps in the hall proved me wrong. Was it Demar that warmed my trembling body, or maybe my girlish thoughts were being too foolish. However, after what happened last night; maybe he was caring enough to make sure that I didn’t become ill.  
Gingerly, I crawled out of bed and crept over to the looking glass. The right side of my face was red and festered that was now marked with two long cuts that traced my jaw-line; where the man’s scorched fingers touched. I didn’t even feel the sting when in the river. I thought it was just my imagination after the dream. I did not prepare for this. Would they believe that I hit my head on the rocks? It would be more believable than the truth.  
I carefully peeled of my nightgown. I had missed some places in the dark. Light brown marks plagued my skin, mostly in my bends and creases. I pulled my shift back over my head, I needed to heat some water and take a proper bath.  
“I have made a bath for you,” startled I turned to find a brooding Demar leaning on the door frame. Before I could respond he disappeared back down the hall.

I gingerly stepped into the steaming water. It welcomed me and embraced every curve of my body and laid me down in its warmth. I scraped off the remaining evidence of the night, but I didn’t want to leave. The temperature of the water soothed my aching muscles; laying back I rested my head on the lip of the tub, stretched my legs out, and melted; forgetting about what awaited outside the protection of the water.  
I wondered if I should try and hide what happened. Maybe they could help me decipher what was truly going on. And the cuts on my cheek changed too many things. I was never a good liar. It would take seconds for them to see through my veil and Recian would soon know the truth. But what would they think of me? Would they toss me out like my father did? Was this the true reason my father put me out on the streets? Did he see the evil of my future budding?   
The once embracing water was now cold and made me shiver. I would have to face them one way or another. But I knew that I would never be able to hide the truth from them.


	11. Weak

Of course, I am weak; weak minded and weak hearted. When tossed out, I crawled into a dark corner and waited for death to take me. And when Death did take me, I depended on him to care for me. I was incapable of being alone, so much so that I would die before taking charge of my life. And now, here I am, bathed in blood in a dark forest and have no ideas as to how I came to be here.  
Without knowledge or consent I was becoming exactly what they feared me to be. Would God still forgive me; considering that I don’t know what has happened? Will He save me?  
I was not about to wait to see if the Holy Spirit would guide me safely out of the trees, at least not in this state. Despite the excruciating pain that rang throughout my extremities, I stood and began walking hoping to hear some sort of creek or stream. If I was in the area near the church there should be a river close by. I could wash all evidence of the woods in the water and follow it to the town.  
I thought of all of the consequences. Demar would think me a stupid girl for falling in the river at this time of year, Recian would be extremely worried, and I would more than likely catch cold. But I could not risk any of them to see me in this state. I could carry on the fallacy of accidentally slipping into the freezing waters, but there was absolutely no explanation I could muster for why I had to get into the river.  
After about half an hour of meandering around the trees in the fading light I finally could hear the faint whisper of moving water. I rehearsed every question that I could be asked in my head. I simply got lost in thought and didn’t realize how late it was and on my rush home I slipped on the rocks and fell into the river. I tried not to think about the blood that made my skin feel more efficient than my undergarments. It constricted and tightened every inch of my body. At first I thought that it was just on my arms, but walking revealed that it only bound the ash to me hiding what it truly was. I shuddered and sighed in relief at the slight glimmer of the river.  
I would have considered the dark waters as punishment until I realized that the aching pain alleviated the searing pain that previously enveloped me. But the cumbersome scrubbing became the true consequence. I tore the bottom of my already shredded dress and rubbed the coarse fabric on my supple fair skin. I was mistaken for thinking that I would only be a few minutes washing off the filth; but the crimson seemed to have soaked into my skin like dye. I could only pray that I had cleaned all of my face, neck, and hair. When I felt satisfied and less sticky I crawled out of the freezing water shivering. Every blast of air compelled my body into uncontrollable shakes.  
When I finally reached the church I was still dripping, I didn’t even make it to the dining hall. I just collapsed on the warm stones in front of the fire in the kitchen; once again, too weak to take care of myself.

I could barely open my eyes to see who found me; but I saw the coarse black hair on his dark skin. I groaned knowing what he must now think of me.  
“Hush now, you can tell us what happened after you get some rest and warm up.”  
I tried to tell him that it was an accident but I couldn’t even understand the mumbling that I managed to produce.  
I half expected him to throw my limp body over his shoulder like a sack of flour. But instead he delicately picked me up as though I was a porcelain doll. I couldn’t tell if it was a part of a dream, but once again I heard the lullaby…  
You heard him,  
Heard the Raven cry  
And now he will carry your soul  
Away, away  
From the light you have lost.

 

A pain shot through my brain as the morning light shone in my eyes. I pulled the covers over my head and turned away. I didn’t want to face the day. I wanted to lay here, become a part of my bed. I stretched out and found that the area of my bed next to me was warm. I must have been sleeping there not too long ago, but the retreating footsteps in the hall proved me wrong. Was it Demar that warmed my trembling body, or maybe my girlish thoughts were being too foolish. However, after what happened last night; maybe he was caring enough to make sure that I didn’t become ill.  
Gingerly, I crawled out of bed and crept over to the looking glass. The right side of my face was red and festered that was now marked with two long cuts that traced my jaw-line; where the man’s scorched fingers touched. I didn’t even feel the sting when in the river. I thought it was just my imagination after the dream. I did not prepare for this. Would they believe that I hit my head on the rocks? It would be more believable than the truth.  
I carefully peeled of my nightgown. I had missed some places in the dark. Light brown marks plagued my skin, mostly in my bends and creases. I pulled my shift back over my head, I needed to heat some water and take a proper bath.  
“I have made a bath for you,” startled I turned to find a brooding Demar leaning on the door frame. Before I could respond he disappeared back down the hall.

I gingerly stepped into the steaming water. It welcomed me and embraced every curve of my body and laid me down in its warmth. I scraped off the remaining evidence of the night, but I didn’t want to leave. The temperature of the water soothed my aching muscles; laying back I rested my head on the lip of the tub, stretched my legs out, and melted; forgetting about what awaited outside the protection of the water.  
I wondered if I should try and hide what happened. Maybe they could help me decipher what was truly going on. And the cuts on my cheek changed too many things. I was never a good liar. It would take seconds for them to see through my veil and Recian would soon know the truth. But what would they think of me? Would they toss me out like my father did? Was this the true reason my father put me out on the streets? Did he see the evil of my future budding?  
The once embracing water was now cold and made me shiver. I would have to face them one way or another. But I knew that I would never be able to hide the truth from them.

I did not sleep soundly, when I escaped the cold bath it was well past noon, as penance I figured I could start on a grand supper maybe to say sorry for the trouble I had caused. I wonder if Demar had told Recian and Volcan what occurred last night.  
I slipped. My hands had always been steady when I cooked; but today I could not stop the shaking. Fifth slip. My hands were sore as though I had been clenching them, the abrasions did not help the situation either. But thankfully they made the new cuts look less obvious. I deserved this. I deserved to feel pain while I did something I enjoyed; it was penance for whatever happened last night. Eleventh slip.  
Every time I thought about the events of last night I could only hate myself. Another slip. I felt as though I was lying even to myself. I knew what happened last night; but it was like a dream that I just couldn’t grasp. It had to be my fault, my doing. There was no sense in lying to myself. Couple more slips. But how do you uncover something hidden in your own mind?  
“Runa, what is going on here?” I did not hear him open the kitchen door, but before I could respond there was Recian holding my bloody hands. “What is this?”  
I couldn’t speak; I just began sobbing in his shirt. He held me, like my father used to. Like I was a adolescent woken from a night terror; Recian held me with the comforting embrace that I now realized that I haven’t felt since I was a little girl.  
“It is alright, child. You are not alone.”  
All I could offer in reply was a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Recian had brought me to bed and told me to rest. “The stars may shine brighter than you tonight but the world will come alight when you smile tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead and silently left. 

There were no questions awaiting me the next day.


End file.
